Breathless
by Madame Naberrie
Summary: Kim Chitto is drowning in her insignificance. Jared Cameron wants to show her that she is all he can see, even if he has to fight every step of the way to make her believe it.
1. Insignificant

**Title: Breathless**

**Author: Madame Naberrie**

**Rating: T (language and adult themes)**

**Summary: Kim Chitto is drowning in her insignificance, lost and alone. Jared Cameron wants to show her that she is all he can see, even if he has to fight every step of the way. **

**-:-:-:-:-**

"Kim."

I vaguely registered the sound of my own name, but my awareness was consumed with Beowulf and Sir Conan and the Green Knight and _oh shit this test is in 6 minutes and_-

"Kim."

"What?" I barked out, tearing my eyes away from my frantically scribbled notes. Melissa stood before me, her hands on her hips, mouth drawn into a thin, indignant line. "This test is in like forty-seven seconds, Melissa, I really don't have time to talk right now."

"Jesus," she scowled, sliding down next to me onto the cold floor in the middle of the bustling hallway. "I was just going to ask you how your vacation went, I didn't realize I'd be unleashing the beast."

I ignored her jab and stared at the notebook, wondering wildly if I could retain the information via osmosis by just pressing the notes into my face. God, I was tired.

"You might as well give up," Melissa noted haughtily. "Killing yourself for the next three minutes is not going to be worth your grade going from an F to an F plus."

I spared a quick glance at her, making a face. "You are really encouraging, you know that?"

She rolled her eyes; perhaps I was being a _tad_ bit dramatic about this English exam, but I was pretty certain that if I didn't pass this test I was going to fail this class and then fail out of _school_ and then have to live with my parents for the rest of my life, which in and of itself was a terrifying enough thought to make me redirect all my attention back to trying to remember who the hell John Milton was.

The bell sounded with an ear-shattering clang, and I felt the first pangs of real panic in my stomach. "No, no, no," I groaned, but Melissa was already pulling me up by the elbow, trying to keep me from being trampled by the incoming horde of students.

"Time to go," she sang cheerfully, dragging me into the depths of hell itself.

As I tried to make my way to my desk -back row, third seat from the left- a huge mass bumped into me, sending me crashing into the desk beside me and spilling the contents of my backpack all over the floor.

Jared Cameron - all six-foot-two of him - stood before me, his mouth open in surprise. "Shit," he said, by way of apology, I suppose, before turning his back and going right along with his business.

_Asshole_, I thought, trying to nonchalantly gather my things from the floor. When I finally made it to my desk, the teacher was already at the front of the room passing out exams and I was definitely going to have to be a hobo for the rest of my life, I was sure of it.

The time ticked on in agonizing slowness. And then, because no matter what anyone tells you, it can _always_ get worse, I brought my hand down on my desk top in frustration and indadvertedly flung my pencil off my desk to where it landed right next to...

...Jared Cameron and his friends.

Awesome.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as the pencil rolled to a perfect stop at his feet. I tried to meet his eyes, frantic, trying to communicate, _oh my God, I'm so sorry for existing, oh my god_-

He looked mildly irritated as he rolled the pencil back towards me, where I fumbled with it for a minute before getting a solid grip. I heard sniggering coming from my right-probably Paul, Jared's partner in crime and overall an even bigger asshole-and quickly muttered a hasty excuse to Mr. Johnson when he questioned if there was something going on back there that I'd like to share with the class (the answer was decidedly _no_).

Twenty minutes later, the whole ordeal was over - much like my academic career - and Melissa was dragging me towards the cafeteria with single-minded determination.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Melissa asked, obnoxiously cheerful as always. She directed me to the back of the line, craning her neck to judge how long we would be standing there waiting to eat. "I mean, I didn't know anything for that last essay question, but I sure made it sound damn good."

"You have a talent," I acknowledged, folding my arms across my stomach, still feeling slightly embarrassed about the whole pencil-flinging incident. "Did you happen to see that whole thing with the pencil...?"

Melissa snorted. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure everyone did," she quipped, but after seeing my expression she hastily added, "it wasn't that bad, we were all pretty consumed with trying not to fail high school."

I stole a glance at Jared's table, and noticed somewhat sheepishly that he and his friends were glancing periodically at me and sniggering in way that was most likely not due to how awesome and hilarious they thought I was. I felt my cheeks warming; it was just a _pencil_. They were seriously overreacting about this.

"Are they staring at you, or is it just me?" Melissa questioned, echoing my thoughts.

"Probably just trying to figure out if I'm totally retarded or just mentally ill," I muttered under my breath, and Melissa let out a giggle. "What _are_ they looking at?" I wondered aloud, feeling the heat in my cheeks spread down my neck and chest.

I saw Paul's mouth open, heard him shout, "Kim!" across the cafeteria, and was being urged towards their table by an insistent Melissa before I could even realize what was happening.

My hands fumbled awkwardly inside my sweatshirt pocket as I approached their table, trying to keep my backpack from sliding off my shoulder. I felt myself growing even warmer as I took in Paul's (unfortunately) handsome face, noting that Jared and a few other boys sat around the table behind him, looking like a mix between irritated and amused.

"Hey," I muttered, and tried not to look terrified. "What's up?"

"That test was something, huh?" Paul said, leaning back in his chair like talking to me was the most normal thing in the world, like I hadn't known him since kindergarten and this wasn't the first time he'd even acknowledged my existence.

"Um," I started, unsure of why on earth he was trying to make small talk with me. "Yeah, I guess."

The boy to Paul's left- Embry, maybe- snorted, and I wanted to shrink into the earth and die. "You probably always get A's though, right?" Paul mused. "So I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

I wanted to ask him why he assumed I got A's all the time- I mean, just because I was completely unpopular and antisocial didn't mean I was also in the marching band or incredibly gifted at academics. I was probably worse at school than he was- but instead of saying that, I found myself just nodding stupidly.

"Well, look," Paul said, shifting to lean forward, elbows resting on his knees. "A couple of us are planning on going into Port Angeles on Friday night," he began, and I wondered where on earth this conversation could be going. "It would be cool if you came with."

"With...you guys?" I squeaked, and I was sure they were classifying me in the _mentally_ _ill_ category by now.

"Yeah," Jared piped up, flashing me a grin. "It'd be fun. There's nothing to do down here at the rez. Are you free?"

Of course I was free. My Friday nights usually consisted of horrible 80s chick flicks and pizza with my little sister, but I wasn't about to say that, so I pretended to consult my inner schedule to see if I could possibly fit them in. "Um, yeah, I think I'm free then," I said, still mildly shocked at the fact that this conversation was even happening.

"Great!" Jared said, still grinning. "You live like a block from me, right?" I nodded. "We could carpool. To save gas, you know. Paul and Embry will be at my place anyway, so..."

"So you want me to drive you?" I asked, the question tumbling from my lips before I could help myself.

Jared hesitated, and then shrugged so casually I wondered if I'd seen him hesitate at all. "We just never hang out," he said evasively. "I thought it'd be fun. And you have that van anyway, which is the only car that would fit us all."

I felt a curling, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, but tried to ignore the feeling. This was possibly the first time anyone had ever invited me to anything socially acceptable, and besides, if it was just about the ride, there was probably a hundred other people they could have asked. Maybe they were just tired of being assholes all the time.

I found myself agreeing before I could really stop and think about the implications. "Ok," I said, and nodded. "What time should I come by?"

Embry, Paul and Jared stole glances at one another, before Paul suggested, "8:30?" and said they'd call me later if plans changed.

When I walked back numbly from their table to Melissa's place in line, she was glaring at me with all the fury of hell in her eyes. "What was that?" she hissed, her hands on her hips.

I shrugged, trying not to let her see that I was just as shocked at she was. "They just wanted to know if I was free Friday. They want to...hang out."

Melissa's eyes widened comically. "Hang out? With you?"

I snorted, trying to cover up the slight pang of shame I felt in my chest at her comment, but she quickly recovered. "Not like that, Kim, you know that I think you're totally awesome," she said, smiling, "...it's just that, they're usually such bastards to everyone. All they do is flirt with the dumb upperclassmen and go get drunk together. I didn't picture them inviting anyone new into their group."

"Maybe they're tired of the same old thing," I offered, trying to give them the benefit of the doubt. "Being a jerk all the time is probably exhausting."

Melissa rolled her eyes, taking her plate of tacos from the sour-looking lunch lady. "Whatever. Just don't get an STD and let me help you pick out an outfit that isn't totally disgusting. And then tell me all about it afterwards."

I grinned, thanking the powers that be that there was at least one other person on this earth that was just as much of a freak as I was. "Deal."

-:-:-:-

"What are you doing?"

I tried to peer out at my sister behind all the hair in my face, but Melissa moved my head determinedly back into place. "Hold still," she muttered, trying to make my stick-straight hair look something close to alluring- though why she thought that was necessary was beyond me.

"Melissa's trying to make me look good," I informed my sister, settling for her reflection in the mirror instead. Through the mess of hair around my eyes, I saw Amy cross her scrawny arms across her chest.

"Doesn't look like it's working," she observed in her typical matter-of-fact fashion.

I couldn't see the face that Melissa directed at her, but I could imagine it was nothing close to sweet. "I think she looks beautiful. As always. And you're a lame sister for not agreeing."

Amy flashed a toothy grin, looking pleased-as usual- that she could get under Melissa's skin so easily. "Don't take it so personally," she said flippantly. "I was joking. Kim, you are beautiful." I wasn't, but she was sweet for saying so.

"Thanks, Amy."

"And where exactly are you going that requires that you look so stunning? Do you have a date or something?"

"No," I was quick to reply before Melissa could interject any of her horribly inaccurate commentary. "I'm- I'm hanging out with friends."

"_Boys_," Melissa said pointedly, finally pulling my hair out of my face. "There. I'm a genius. It almost looks like you have 10 hairs on your head now instead of 3."

"Ha, ha," I laughed dryly, but had to admit that my hair did look somewhat swishy and nice, instead of its usual stringy and plain. I touched a hand to my head tentatively, noting how smooth it felt. "Thanks, Melissa. You're gonna have to teach me how to do this myself."

She beamed. "You're welcome. Ok, it's almost 8. What are you going to wear?"

"Whatever you tell me to, of course."

Amy chuckled at me as I trailed Melissa back into my room. I ruffled her hair affectionally and tried to be older-sisterly and told her to do some homework (_It's Friday, Kim. Don't be such an idiot. Eyes rolling_).

Melissa threw various clothing articles at me, chattering incessantly. I ignored her jabbering and tried to read an article in Seventeen, but I felt so horribly inadequate after five minutes of staring at blonde goddesses that I closed the magazine and settled for staring at my ceiling instead.

Finally, we- Melissa - settled on a pair of khaki pants, casual flats, and a dark denim jacket. It was 8:20, and being late to things generally gave me mild panic attacks.

I rushed downstairs and grabbed my keys off the counter. "See you later," I shouted at my mom for good measure, ignoring Melissa's insistent calls of _you'd better call me the second you get back_.

I hopped in my car, noting somewhat belatedly that there was stuff-sweatshirts, papers, empty pop-tart wrappers - everywhere, and then tried to remember that they were boys and probably wouldn't care.

_Boys_.

I arrived in front of Jared's house - the tiny brown one surrounded by wind chimes and flowerbeds - approximately 7 minutes later, and wondered if I should park and knock on his door, or if that felt weird and too formal.

Luckily, Jared and his boys emerged from the house a moment later, laughing loudly and shoving each other all the way down the driveway. I felt a persistent lump in the back of my throat, and tried to swallow it away. I was so not socially skilled enough to be hanging with these people.

Jared thrust open the passenger door and slid in, followed moments later Embry and Paul and another boy I vaguely recognized from around school. Their booming voices and presences filled up the previously silent car, and I felt something akin to mild suffocation.

"Hey Kim," Embry chimed cheerfully.

"Hi," I muttered, already feeling stupid. Why had I agreed to do this?

"You know how to get to Port Angeles, right?" Jared asked, shoving his shoulder-length hair behind his ears. Someone in the backseat chuckled.

"Um, I have a GPS," I said by way of answer, pointing to the device resting on my dashboard. Truthfully, getting hopelessly lost was pretty high up on the list of Ways This Night Could End Disastrously, but I figured voicing this was probably not going to help my case.

"Cool," Jared said, fishing something out of his pocket as I pulled out from the curb. "I brought my iPod. Can I put on some music?"

"Play whatever you want," I said truthfully, trying to navigate out of Jared's street without damaging any parked cars. The music would be a nice way to alleviate some of the tension that I felt (though it seemed to me that no one else quite noticed it as much as I did).

Conversation progressed steadily throughout the ride, though I was pretty much a non-participant. I listened in on their inside jokes and crude humor, feeling extremely out of place, and instead focused my energies on driving. So far, no one had said anything particularly asshole-ish, though, so I took this as a good sign and figured no one could laugh at me for saying something stupid if I said nothing at all.

When we arrived in Port Angeles, Paul directed me along some small side streets until we came across a parking structure. I drove to the top floor (_please oh please don't let me hit anything, please oh please_) and successfully (astoundingly) pulled into a parking space. I let out a breath as I turned the key in the ignition.

"Awesome," Jared said, and grinned at me. Goddammit, I couldn't help the curling feeling in my stomach at how handsome he was and admitting it made me want to be sick. It was hard to stick with the whole he's-a-horrible-human-being viewpoint when he looked so goddamn _good_.

"So, um, where are we going?" I asked as the boys battled against one another's limbs to get out of the car.

Paul and Jared glanced at each other. "We're going to this bar place," Paul said, and I felt my stomach drop to the ground. _What_.

"Uh," I said, twirling my keys anxiously around my wrist, trying to keep up with their long strides. "How exactly are we...getting in?" I may have been 18 (ok, almost) but I didn't look a day over 14, and _why the hell had they asked me to come here with them?_

Embry and Jared were punching each other in the shoulder, laughing uncontrollably, and I wanted to be home. Paul spared a glance my way, and said, "We come here all the time, it's easy to get in."

Oh, god. _Oh god oh god oh god_. I followed them through the streets, stumbling every few feet. The lights in the shops seemed to blur together into streaks of yellow and white, and I felt like I was going to vomit.

I couldn't go to a bar. No. First of all, I looked 14 and there was no way I was getting in. Not to mention the fact that the thought of being confined in a small space with a crowd of drunk people was the most anxiety-producing thought I'd had in a long time (which, considering that every therapist within a hundred-mile-radius of La Push was able to diagnose me with severe panic disorder after about 34 seconds of knowing me, was really saying something).

I took a deep breath, knowing that I was about to commit social suicide, but I was about to have a goddamn panicked attack because there were so many people and I was a pussy and I could _not_ do this.

"Wait," I said, my eyes squeezing shut. I halted my movements and stood still on the sidewalk. When I opened my eyes, four confused boys were staring at me like I was growing an extra limb, which I honestly might as well have been, because I was the lamest person in existence and they were all about to hate me. "I- I can't. I can't go in there."

Their eyes met, and I could feel their wordless irritation at this nuisance standing before them. "Why not? It's not a big deal," Quil- the boy I had barely recognized - said, shoving his hands deep in his jean pockets.

I swallowed thickly. "It's just...not my thing. Sorry. You guys can go ahead. I'm just going to...hang out." _Lame_.

Paul snorted in annoyance. "Fine, we'll see you later then," he muttered, and the guys followed him wordlessly towards their destination, leaving me standing like an idiot in the street without a moment's hesitation.

I stood there for a long moment, feeling my heart hammering against my chest. I felt tears gathering in the corners of my eyes, and I felt like a _fool_. They had needed a ride. I had been hopelessly in love with Jared since kindergarten. Like anyone with an ounce of brains, they had put two and two together; I had just been too damned stupid to see the blindingly obvious.

Feeling dizzy with embarrassment and shame, I quickly retraced my steps, wanting to sit in my car and rest my head against the wheel and remind myself that I was _nothing_, that I was an inconsequential speck in the universe, that I was going to drown and die in my insignificance.

I made it halfway up the first flight of parking structure stairs when I collided with something solid. I jerked back, cradling my arms against my chest, when I found myself staring into the eyes of a man that I did not recognize.

I backed against the wall. "Sorry," I muttered, and attempted to move past him, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path without hesitation.

"Hey baby," he sneered, his face contorting into something ugly. "Where ya going?"

Fear began to flood into my mind like a drug, putting all my senses on high alert. _Lie_, the adrenaline screamed at me.

"I'm meeting my boyfriend upstairs," I growled, and tried to paint a mask of nonchalance on my face._ He's a nuisance, not a danger. Show him you aren't afraid._

"I'm sure you are," he said cooly, his lips curling into an eerie grin, tossing my lightweight lie aside. He reached forward and grasped my wrist, his fingers sweaty and cold against my skin. "Come on, I have some friends who'd wanna meet ya."

I felt the panic settle into my stomach like a solid rock, weighing my body down, rendering me immobile. I did the only thing left I could think to do- I screamed. I thanked god that my voice hadn't died inside my throat (like it always did in the nightmares) and I screamed so loud that my own ears were ringing. I struggled frantically against his grip, clawing against his arms, every instinct within me screaming that I had to _fight._

A sweaty hand clamped around my mouth, and in that second I knew I was going to die. I was going to meet my end here tonight, and I hadn't told my sister I loved her, hadn't told my mom _I'm sorry he doesn't love you anymore but please be my mom again, I need you_-

Before I could register what was happening, I was yanked out of the man's grip and thrown down the stairs. I tumbled down in a tangled heap of limbs, knocking the back of my head against the metal railing and hearing a sick crunch, and oh, god, there was blood-

And darkness pooled in my mind like a thick syrup, filling in every crevice of awareness until I was nothing.

-:-:-:-:-

_To be continued..._

_Review and let me know what you thought, please!_


	2. Heat

**Breathless**

**Ch. 2: ****Heat**

-:-:-:-:-:-

I opened my eyes just as the last rays of the sun were streaming through my curtains, throwing soft golden shadows about the room.

It took a long moment for me to adjust to being awake-lately, the fatigue was a permanent heaviness in my bones. I blinked my eyes a few times, warding off the blurriness. My throat felt dry and hoarse, and my leg was aching just as acutely as it had been before my - I glanced at the clock, noting that it read 6:37 - four hour nap.

With a great deal of effort, I managed to sit up in bed, wincing when the pain shot through my body. My mind felt sluggish with the foggy blanket of a too-long nap, and I realized that I really needed a shower.

My phone was vibrating underneath my good leg. Twisting my arm, I reached for it and flipped it open. 1 new message.

_How are you today? Do you want me to bring your homework today or later this weekend?_

Melissa's thoughtful text brought a small smile to my lips. _I'm doing better, thanks, Melissa. You can bring it by Sunday. We both know I won't do it until Monday morning any way._ Send.

Moments later, another buzz. _He's still not here. In case you were wondering._

I felt a pain in my chest and had to swallow the lump that had developed in my throat. _Ok,_ I sent back. What else was there to say?

I leaned back against the pillows, closing my eyes tightly against the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake me. The mental image of the man's hand on my wrist, his hand covering my desperate scream, falling down the steps, the pain-

I groaned and reached for the bottle codeine on my bedside table that was quickly becoming my best friend.

So, Jared still wasn't back at school. I wondered what sort of gossip was flying through the hallways, hoping it was a little more glamorous than the truth: _he and his friends ditched me when I was too afraid to go in a bar with them and then I fell down some stairs and I can't go to school because I can't go the bathroom by myself and he's probably so disgusted with the idea of seeing my pathetic face in the halls that he's decided to become home schooled._

I had no memory of that night beyond falling down the stairs and hitting my head. When I awoke again, I had been lying in a hospital bed, my leg in a cast, my head wrapped in gauze, my wrist wrapped in some sort of tight bandage, and my mother, at my bedside, absolutely losing her _shit_- though I couldn't exactly blame her.

What the _hell_ had happened that night?

It made a tight knot in my stomach to think about the fact that I didn't know who had ripped me from the grip of my attacker and thrown me down the steps. And why, as the doctors had informed me later, had he -or she, I supposed- brought me to the hospital himself instead of calling 911 like a goddamned normal person? Why just drop me off, without bothering to explain anything? And why the hell had Jared not been at school for _two weeks_?

Ok, thinking was quickly exhausting me. I wanted warm soup and a shower. I reached for the crutches propped against my nightstand; it took a good ten minutes before I was standing again, trying to hobble my way out of my room and towards the kitchen where I would have to - horrifyingly - ask for my mother's help in showering.

Goddammit.

An hour later, I was clean -well, as clean as I could be while really only being able to shower half of my body- and propped up on some pillows on the couch, staring blankly at the TV playing old reruns of _That 70s Show._

"Mom," I said, having mentally rehearsed this conversation with myself while attempting to put on pants (an impossible feat with a leg cast). My mom peered at me from around the kitchen corner where she was busy cooking dinner (I guess your oldest daughter "accidentally tripping down some stairs" and ending up the hospital is enough to guilt-trip you into cooking actual meals for her regularly. I thought briefly what she would do if I decided to tell her what really happened that night; buy me a pony?).

"What is it, sweetie?"

"I want to go back to school on Monday. I really don't want to fall even more behind."

She frowned slightly, shifting her weight onto one hip. "I thought Melissa has been bringing you your homework."

"She has," I assured her hastily. "It's just, you know. I kinda need to be there in class to understand what's going on."

Her lips stretched into a thin line. "Are you feeling up to it?"

"Yeah," I lied. "My leg doesn't hurt that much. Melissa already told me she'll give me rides to school and help me around and stuff."

My mother appeared to consider this for a long moment. "Ok, honey, if you think you can manage. I don't want you going anywhere, though, I want you coming _straight_ back home-"

"_Mom_," I said, and pointed dramatically at my useless leg. "I can barely make it to the _bathroom_. I'm not going anywhere. Relax."

She huffed indignantly before returning to her kitchen, and I figured it was the closest thing to her permission I was going to get.

I settled back into my pillows, trying to watch the TV, but my consciousness was wrapped up in something else entirely; I needed to figure out what the hell was going on Jared, and if he knew any more about that night at Port Angeles than I did. I wanted some answers.

-:-:-:-:-

He was nowhere to be seen.

Amidst questions about my health (_I tripped, I know, I'm a huge klutz_) and Melissa's insistent inquires (_Are you ok? Can you walk there? I'm pretty sure the nurse has a wheelchair somewhere, I could help you get around_), I spent the majority of the morning trying to spot the stupid asshole who had used me for a ride to Port Angeles, feeling somewhat disgusted with myself that I felt an equal urge to both scream at him and make sure _he was all right_.

English was approaching quickly, and I found myself incredibly anxious at the notion of seeing Paul and Embry. My accident hadn't been their fault, exactly- I did have enough sense to know that- but the fact that it wouldn't have happened without their interference was enough to get my blood boiling.

When I arrived in class, I couldn't help my eyes from immediately darting to the back corner of the room, where Embry and Paul were sitting in their usual spots by Jared's-empty-desk. They were decidedly avoiding eye contact with me. Bastards.

I hobbled my way to my seat, making sure to appear extra feeble (what good was a broken limb if you couldn't milk it a little for what it was worth, right?). Although settling into my seat took quite a bit of real, unfeigned effort, I managed to arrange my leg and my crutches in the most unobtrusive manner possible.

"Kim..." a low voice came from a few seats down from me. I felt my heart skip a beat as I met Embry's pained eyes. "Are you...ok?"

All my haughty, indignant, well-thought out replies (rehearsed briefly in my bathroom mirror that morning) died in my throat before I could even open my mouth. Instead, all that came out of my throat was an apprehensive, "Yeah," taking my dignity with it.

"Look, Kim, I'm really sorry..."

I felt a twinge of guilt for my display of helplessness earlier, and managed to say, "It's ok. I'll be fine."

Embry was visibly relieved. I spared a glance at Paul, who looked stoic and completely unengaged, and I knew that his silence was as much of an apology as I was going to get. Ok, fine. But now they were going to answer my questions.

"Where's Jared?" I asked, blurting out my most immediate concern.

Embry hesitated for a brief moment. "I don't know," he admitted, and from his look of frustration I could see he was just as bewildered as I was. "I haven't seen him since...um, since Port Angeles. I've heard that he's sick."

I could feel my brow furrowing, wanting to ask _how_ sick, but a shush from Mr. Johnson reminded me that we were still in class and that I wasn't being particularly inconspicuous. I lowered my voice and leaned towards Embry, determined to gather as much information as possible. "Did one of you guys take me to the hospital? They said someone dropped me off, but I have no idea how I got there."

A muscle in Paul's jaw twitched marginally, that only sign that he was mentally engaged in the conversation.

"No," Embry said. "We didn't even realize..." he shook his head. "We found out from Jared's mom. She's a nurse and I guess she called us as soon as she saw you come in."

I sucked in a deep breath. "And she didn't say who brought me in?"

Embry shrugged. "If she saw, she didn't say anything to us."

I nodded once, sharply,. If it wasn't one of the guys who had rescued me from that pervert, who had?

The rest of the day dragged on in agonizing slowness. I was assured by all my teachers that I didn't need to worry about the work I'd missed, that they understood that I had gone through a rough time and they wanted to help me get back on track. I felt a profound sort of gratefulness at this simple act of kindness, and hoped that my murmurs of "thank you" expressed how much it meant to me.

Melissa drove me home in relative silence. I rested my forehead against the car window, watching as my hot breath spread little white circles of fog on the glass. I longed for codeine and sleep.

The instant I got home, I undertook the Herculean task of ascending the stairs to my room, and once there, I instantly collapsed into bed, where I felt into a deep, groggy sleep.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"Kim!"

I gasped as Melissa collided into me, nearly losing my balance. I grabbed onto my locker door for support. "Jesus, Melissa, like I need more broken limbs!"

"Sorry," she mumbled. She glanced around the hallway, craning her neck to see if anyone was within earshot. I wanted to laugh at her comically wide eyes, but I figured it would get me in more trouble than it was worth. "Kim, he's _back_."

I faltered with my notebook for a moment, feeling my heartbeat come to a halt. "Did you see him?" I asked, attempting to sound only mildly interested, and failing miserably.

Melissa nodded, her eyes like saucers. "Kim, he's like..." she shook her head, breathless. "He's like the Incredible Hulk. Quileute style. Kim, it's like the freakiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

I tried to wrap my head around the nonsensical words spilling from her throat. "What? What are you talking about?"

"His hair- and _god_, he's like at least six inches taller-"

I gaped openly. "He's only been gone for _two_ _weeks_, what are you talking about?"

Melissa growled in frustration, and yanked me with her across the hall, leaving my locker open and my stuff scattered across the hallway. _What was going on?_

"See for yourself," she hissed, and shoved me in front of her, pointing to Jared's locker and-

Holy. Shit.

"That...that's not possible," I stuttered stupidly.

The boy - man - before me was still Jared Cameron. His smile was wide and his eyes were sparkling with laughter as he talked with a few friends, just like the Jared I had known since kindergarten. But the changes I was seeing in him were literally _impossible_.

Jared was astoundingly, impossibly tall, at least six inches taller. And his previously lanky limbs were now inconceivably _huge_. He had the look of someone who spent hours every day lifting weights- no, lifting _cars_. How was this even possible?

"I don't get it," Melissa said, in just as much shock as I was. "Maybe he's on steroids."

"He doesn't play sports," I mused aloud, unable to take my eyes off of him. "Maybe it's...like, some freaky Quileute growth spurt...brought about by the flu, or something...Embry said he was sick..."

The sound of the bell reverberated throughout the hallway, signaling it was once again time for English. I felt butterflies start flying wildly in the pit of my stomach. _I've got to ask him what happened to him.._.

Melissa led me to class in a daze, seeming to realize that I was pretty much incapable of any rational thought (or moving on my own). She helped me arrange my crutches on the floor before asking me something along the lines of "Are you ok?" to which I murmured some unintelligible response, because at that moment Jared sauntered into the classroom with a grace that was almost inhuman.

My eyes followed his every movement as he made his way back to his desk (_will he even fit in that desk anymore?_), aware that everyone else in class was following suit, including Mr. Johnson. Jared slumped into his seat, dropping his backpack to the floor with a thud. He turned to Embry and Paul, and I couldn't stop myself from saying it, his name was bubbling out of my mouth like I was a volcano about to erupt-

"Jared," I began, my voice sounding harsh and breathless-

And he turned to look at me.

And something happened that defied all explanation.

He met my eyes, his expression neutral. But in a split-second, his face was morphing into something entirely incomprehensible. His eyes grew wide, his jaw slacked open, and all I could register was that the earth was tilting and spinning and I was helplessly lost in its pull, lost in _him_.

Jared Cameron was staring at _me_.

There was a fierceness in his face that I could not identify as his eyes swept over my form. His eyes traced along my face, down my neck, past the "v" of my neckline, down my bony hips, to my broken leg, jutting out from underneath the desk, and at that, I could have sworn that I heard a _growl_ from somewhere deep within his chest.

"Kim," he said breathlessly (_and no one had anyone ever said my name like that before_) and once again traced his eyes up back to my face. He reached out a tentative, shaking hand, and his fingers ever so slightly _brushed against my cheek_-

And I gasped, reflexively jerking backwards at the astounding _heat_ I had felt against my skin.

And then I fell out of my seat.

It couldn't have been more than two seconds before I felt a body-hot as a furnace- beside me, an arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders, a strong hand cradling the back of my head, protecting it from where it would have hit the floor a mere split-second later.

"Are you all right? Kim?" a frantic voice was demanding.

Jared.

It took about three seconds for me to register that I was sprawled across the hard linoleum floor, my limbs tangled hopelessly with the desk legs around me, wrapped in Jared's embrace, and surrounded by a growing throng of students who were in just as much shock as I was.

It was too much.

My breaths started coming in shallow gasps, and I placed a hand to my chest, feeling my mind beginning to whirl at a thousand miles a minute- _run, get away from here, you're going to die, you're going to go crazy and suffocate, all these people are watching you-_

In an instant, I felt myself being lifted from the floor, utterly weightless. Jared's arms held me like a vice and I was being quickly carried out of the classroom. Reality swirled and tilted around me, like an insane, codeine-induced hallucination...

"Jared," I gasped, and the nauseating motion paused. "Put-put me down." _Never thought I'd say those words to Jared Cameron._

"You need to go to the nurse," Jared insisted, resuming his hurried pace.

"No, please," I attempted once again. "I know what's wrong. I just- I just need a second, Jared, please."

The desperate tone of my voice seemed to break through his single-minded determination, and moments later I was being deposited gently on my feet (well, one foot, really), steadying hands keeping me from swaying to the ground. My eyes screwed shut, trying to block out the nausea.

"Are you ok? Kim? What's going on?"

_Deep breaths_. In through the nose, out through the mouth. _One. Two. Three. Four._

"_Kim_, what's happening?"

_Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten._

A growl. "I'm taking you to the nurse." His hands tightened on me, ready to sweep me me off my feet, but I swatted them away.

"Stop," I said, and felt steady enough to open my eyes. Jared was hunched over, his face inches from mine. His chocolate eyes were boring into me so fiercely that I almost gave into a second wave of panic, but I pressed my nails deep into the skin of my palms to keep myself grounded in reality. "I'm fine. I don't need to go to the nurse."

His hand reached up to brush stray hairs from my forehead, and I instinctively jerked away from his touch (_Jaredwastouchingme and I was losing my mind_).

"You can g-go back to class now," I stuttered, the heavy heat of mortification beginning to settle deep within my gut. I had _fallen_ and _panicked_ and Jared had had to _carry_ me. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to run away, run from his probing eyes and all my weaknesses laid out bare before him. My arms crossed over my stomach and I felt so _naked_.

"I'm not leaving you alone out here," Jared whispered, his eyes still boring into my own. I averted my eyes quickly, knowing that if I met his gaze I would be undone.

"It's ok," I insisted, shaking my head. "I know you-you feel bad about what happened, but I'm fine-"

Jared wrapped his hand around my arm in a firm grasp. "Kim, no, we need to talk. Now."

I hesitated. _Stall_. "Um, ok. But I'm really not feeling great, so I think I'm going to go to the office and see if my mom can pick me up. Can we talk...later?"

Jared's face conveyed nothing short of utter annoyance, but I must have looked so pitifully awkward that he decided to allow me my escape. "Ok. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," I said firmly, shaking my head a bit more than was necessary. "I'll be fine."

Jared nodded. "Ok, wait here. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" I questioned him, but he was already jogging down the hallway. Moments later, he returned with my crutches in hand, and I felt my face flushing at my stupidity. "Thanks," I murmured when he reached me, and attempted to settle myself on them without looking impossibly foolish (not that it mattered at this point, I supposed).

Jared reached out again to touch my forehead with the tips of his (scalding) fingers, and propped on my crutches, I was powerless to shy away from them. "Will you be ok?" he asked, and if I hadn't known better, I could have sworn his voice was raspy with _tenderness_.

_Does it matter to you? It didn't seem to a few weeks ago_. I swallowed. "Yeah. I'll, um, see you Monday." Determined to end the conversation, I turned my back to him and limped my way down the hallway, trying not to picture him watching my exit with those probing eyes.

-:-:-:-

_To be continued..._

**Author's Note: on the off chance that any of you read this, I would like to let you know that I am hardly doing any homework/studying/eating because I am writing this fic so furiously. I love Jared and Kim, I love you guys, and I love reviews. Please make it all worthwhile for me! Even if you just write "good" or "horrible." I love it! 3**


	3. Inconceivable

***Please see author's note at the end, as per usual.**

**Chapter 3: Inconceivable **

-:-:-:-:-:-

I sat in the front office for the next hour and a half of the day (much to the irritation of the woman at the front desk, who kept peering at me from behind her glasses like I was a fly she wanted to swat). When the final bell rang, I watched through the office window for Melissa's tell-tale hair (curly and huge) and frantically waved her inside when she met my eyes through the foggy white glass. It took about seven full minutes of _what happened to you!_ and _do you want to tell me what the hell is going on here?_ before I finally convinced her that I didn't have the brain capacity to discuss it just then, and could she _please_ just take me home.

When Melissa finally dropped me off- _we will discuss this later, Kimberly Marie Chitto_- the house was strangely silent and the lights downstairs were all shut off. I looked towards the staircase and saw light streaming from my mom's room and attempted to climb the stairs without breaking my other leg.

"Mom?" I called, peering around the partially ajar door. "Are you in here?"

"I'm in here, honey," came my mother's sing-songy voice from deep within the recesses of her closet. _Shit_. That never meant anything good.

I leaned against the closet doorway, eyeing my mother, who was sitting atop a pile of clothes, frantically digging through them in search of the perfect blouse, or something. "Did you just get home?" I questioned her, noticing that she was still decked out in her grocer uniform.

"Yeah," she muttered, distractedly. "And now I'm late."

"For what?"

She paused from her frantic search to finally meet my gaze. Her black hair was twisted back into her harsh bun, graying at the temples. Her chocolate eyes were set deep within the dark, saggy skin around her eyes, and her thin lips were pulled into a grin that showcased all the laugh lines around the corners of her mouth. "Your father is coming in twenty minutes."

I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from blurting out my surprise. "Since when?" I asked, trying to speak around the sudden lump that had formed inside my throat.

My mother returned to her search (_the perfect outfit to impress him_) and clicked her tongue thoughtfully. "Since this morning. He's in town for the weekend visiting his father, and he wanted to meet up to talk."

My eyelids fell shut for one small moment. "And when exactly was he planning on seeing me and Amy?"

"Honey," my mother said, and the endearment was more admonishment than affection. "Don't start this again, ok? Your father works a lot, you know that. And he _does_ want to see you. He wants to take you and Amy someplace tomorrow. I told him you were free." She stood, the desired article of clothing in hand, and bustled her way past me and into the bedroom.

I whirled around to face her again. "And what does he want to see _you_ for?"

She peeled off the layers of her uniform and began working her way through the arms of her sweater dress. Her undergarments were lacy and black, and I felt a pang of shame at their ostentatiousness, knowing that they had been chosen deliberately. "I told you, Kim. To talk."

"About what?" I persisted, watching as she sat herself at her vanity and began rummaging through her cosmetics. _Shit_. _Shit_.

Her answering glance was sharp and pointed. "That's none of your business, Kim."

I felt the anger bubbling in my throat, and I couldn't have stopped myself from saying the words that came out of my mouth, even if I had wanted to. "It's my business if you're going to throw yourself at him and make yourself miserable for weeks, like you always do."

My mother's shoulders stiffened and she paused in applying a garish shade of red to her wrinkled lips. "You are about to cross a line, Kimberly," my mother informed me with all the calm of asking me to empty the dishwasher. The cold emptiness in her voice peppered my skin with goosebumps.

"So are you," I bit out, ignoring the survival instinct that was telling me to shut the hell up. "How many times does he have to do this to you before you get it? He doesn't love you anymore, Mom. He comes home, saying he _just_ wants to talk, and you fall all over him and then he _leaves_ you and you're heartbroken again!"

She slammed her bag of cosmetics against the vanity so hard that it shook. "That's _enough_," she growled, whirling around her seat to stare at me with blazing eyes. Without leaving me time to react, she stormed out of the bedroom and down the hallway. As fast as my crutches would take me, I followed her into my bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I asked, panicking, watching as she tore through the contents of my desk drawers. "Mom."

She produced a black photo album, buried somewhere within the tornado zone that was my desk. She flipped madly through its pages, until she came across the desired one and ripped a photo from its plastic covering. She held it up; a picture of our family, long before my dad had left. The only photograph I had of him. The only one she had allowed me to keep.

And she ripped it half without a moment's hesitation.

"Is this what you want?" she questioned me, shredding it into even smaller pieces. "You want him to really leave us? Fine, Kim, then we'll do it your way and he won't ever come back. I do what I have to do, Kim, and it is _none of your goddamn business._"

Tears were streaming down my cheeks and I was vaguely aware of the sound of Amy returning from soccer practice. "He already _has_ left us, Mom. A nice fuck with you every once in a while and a few birthday cards here and there hardly makes him part of the family anymore."

I anticipated the hard slap that came across my cheeks moments later; I just barely managed not to bring my hand up to cradle my stinging cheek. I opened my eyes to see my mother standing before me, but where I anticipated fury and rage, I instead saw bone-deep weariness and despair. The tension between us was palpable, both of us knowing that the chasm was far too deep for either of us to jump across.

"You're grounded," my mother said simply, and given the heated exchange that had just occurred, I had expected something along the lines of damnation to hell and the end of all things as we knew them. I wanted-absurdly-to laugh. "Phone, laptop, and iPod in my room. You can kiss your senior goodbye, Kimberly." My name sounded like a curse on her tongue.

I had only the strength to nod weakly.

Without another word, she bristled past me and closed the door behind her, leaving me standing in the half-light of late evening, tears still silently coursing down my cheeks.

I made sure to leave my things in her room-ignoring Amy's questions about what was going on-before locking myself back in my bedroom and drawing the curtains, wanting nothing more than to settle into the welcoming arms of blissful sleep.

-:-:-:-:-:-

When I awoke, it was somewhere around midnight and the house was silent and dark. I had about one minute of wonderful half-awareness before all the events of the day came flooding back to me in an instant-Jared, panic attacks, my mother-and all I could do was lay back against the pillows and try not to vomit.

My brain was too tired to process all that had happened, but the memory of Jared's face as he brushed his fingers against my cheek was etched into my mind. I absently brought my hand to my face, expecting to feel a scar where his fingers had _burned_ me, but I encountered only smooth, unmarred skin. Perhaps it had all been a dream.

I nearly screamed at the sound of pounding coming from downstairs.

"Kim!" I heard someone crying, and it took me moment to register Melissa's voice echoing from outside my front door. "Open the door right now! I know you're in there, I see your car!"

I stumbled out of bed, wincing as my weight shifted heavily to my bad leg. I thrust open my creaky window to poke my head out into the cool night air towards the front yard.

"Melissa!" I hissed. "Will you be quiet? My sister is sleeping!" I tried not to think about who else might be sleeping - or _not_ sleeping - in my mother's bedroom at that moment.

Melissa's face said _I don't give a shit_ more clearly than any words could have. Her hands were on her hips and her hair was wild around her face.

"Come open the door," she insisted, not lowering her voice even one fraction of a decibel.

"Jesus, fine, just give me one second to get downstairs." I stepped away from the window and attempted to locate my crutches in the dark. Finding them was the easy part; making my way downstairs -quietly- before I turned thirty-seven was another matter entirely.

Finally, I reached the front door and pulled it open, noting with a strange mix of dread and relief -_she was still with him but she wasn't _here- that my mother's car wasn't in the driveway.

Melissa shoved past me and into the house.

"Come in," I muttered to the air, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"Where have you _been_?" Melissa demanded, narrowing her eyes at me (_she was going to be a great mother someday_). "First, you like, _faint_, in class and Jared _Cameron_ carries you outside, and then you beg me to take you home, not explaining anything, and now I have been calling you for hours and you haven't even sent me a text to tell me you weren't dying! I told myself I'd at least come and check before I like, called 911."

I winced, knowing that I would have been just as panicked had the situations been reversed. "I'm really sorry, Melissa. My mom took my phone and I've been asleep for like six hours."

She huffed indignantly, clearly not appeased. "What about Jared? What the hell happened in class today? Everyone thinks that you like, aborted Jared's baby and then fainted in class after the procedure and Jared had to rush you to the ER."

"Shit," I murmured.

"I mean, Jared sent me like 6,000 text messages," Melissa said, and my heart stopped entirely.

"_What_?"

"He's been trying to reach you all night," she said, and thrust her phone at me so I could see for myself (_where's Kim? Have you heard from Kim? Do you know if Kim is ok?_). "I told him I was going to your place to check on you, but that didn't seem to calm him down much. I mean, I don't even know how he got our numbers. Is there something going on with you two that you're not telling me about?"

"No," I corrected her swiftly, and plopped down heavily on my couch, tossing the phone across the couch. "I don't know what happened in class today. He just...looked at me. And his eyes got all wide and he touched my cheek, and then I freaked out...I don't know, Melissa."

"You're going crazy," Melissa informed me, and her face of disbelief convinced me that she was only partially kidding.

"I know," I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "He's never talked to me before and suddenly he's spending all day worrying about me and asking if I'm ok."

Melissa sat down gently next to me, seeming somewhat less angered than moments before. "Maybe he just feels bad about what happened at Port Angeles," she said softly, her hand on my shoulder.

"I guess," I said, my voice muffled by the sound of my clammy palms over my mouth. "What if he's screwing with me or something? What if his friends dared him to fuck around with the pathetic nerdy girl who follows him around like a lost puppy? I mean, shit, Melissa, it sounds like something they would do. I see no reason for him to be nice to me."

Melissa rubbed soothing circles on my shoulder. "I don't know. Something happened to him in these two weeks he's been missing, that's for sure. Maybe he's changed."

Right.

_Thud_.

Melissa and I simultaneously jerked from the couch into standing positions at the sound of a thud coming from upstairs.

"Shit," Melissa breathed, grasping onto my arm, her long nails digging into my bare skin.

My heart was thumping against my ribcage as I shushed her, straining my ears towards the stairs. There was silence.

I turned back towards Melissa. "It's just Amy," I assured her, attempting to soothe the stricken look on her face.

"Who's Amy?"

Melissa and I screamed bloody murder at the sound of a man's voice from behind me. Melissa tumbled over the arm of the couch, nearly taking me with her, but a swift arm -_warm-_- wrapped around my waist and secured me to the floor.

"Whoa, it's just me," came a voice from somewhere near my face, and I managed to stop screaming long enough to register _Jared_.

"Jared?" I cried, yanking myself from his grip to face him (_good lord why wasn't he wearing a shirt?_). "What the _hell_? What are you doing in my house? How did you get inside? Jesus Christ!"

A wide grin split his face in half. "You said we could talk later...so...it's later."

_Oh my god, Jared Cameron is a lunatic. He was probably in the mental hospital those two weeks he was missing. Shit, he's probably going to murder us now, is that why he's not wearing a shirt, he doesn't want to get blood on it...?_

"Kim, I'm kidding," he assured me, the grin melting off his face instantly. "You haven't returned my calls all evening, and then Melissa says she's going to go check on you and suddenly she's not answering my calls either, so I-," _a pause, a strange look flashing over his face_, "-drove here."

"You could have waited like five minutes for me to call you back, stalker," Melissa countered quickly, picking herself up off the couch, producing a phone from behind the cushion where it had evidently been vibrating the whole time. "See? Kim is fine."

"Maybe Kim would like to tell me that herself," he said softly, his eyes glued to mine.

I crossed my arms over my chest defensively, deliberately staring at a spot on the floor. "Maybe _you'd_ like to tell me why you came through the window half-naked instead of knocking on the front door." _I hadn't even needed to rehearse that one in my bathroom mirror. Damn._

"I didn't want to wake you if you were sleeping," he explained. "I just was going to check and see that you were safe. I saw that your window was open from downstairs, but then you weren't in bed and I got worried."

"So you were going to spy on me while I was asleep?"

"No!" Jared insisted, his eyes widening. "It's not like that. I was _really_ worried, Kim. You scared me at school today. I needed to make sure you were okay." His (_handsome_) face was so insistent that I could almost believe he really was concerned about my safety.

"That still doesn't explain why you're half-naked," Melissa spat from beside me.

"It was...hot."

"It's November."

"You would be hot too if you were six-foot-seven and two-hundred pounds."

"Ok, stop!" I said, limping to stand between them, too exhausted to be amused at the irritated looks in both their eyes. "This has been possibly the craziest day of my life, and I can't handle you two screaming at each other in my living room at midnight. I need to sleep. Both of you, go home, please."

Melissa snorted. "Fine. Kim, I'll come back tomorrow, ok?"

"Um, ok," I said, remembering my dad's visit tomorrow (_if he remembered_) and added, "After eleven, when my mom's asleep, ok?"

Melissa stood her ground, staring unwaveringly at Jared. "Aren't you coming, too?" she asked him pointedly.

At the pleading look in Jared's eyes, I nodded to Melissa, signaling that it was safe to leave me alone with him for a few minutes (probably). "It's ok, Melissa. I'll see you tomorrow."

She let out an indignant huff and went out the front door, leaving me standing with a half-naked Jared Cameron in my living room.

_Definitely need to lay off the codeine..._

"Are you sure you're okay, Kim?" Jared asked, his voice so soft I could barely hear him. "Why didn't you answer my calls?"

"I'm ok. My mom took my phone." _Not that I would have answered any way_.

He nodded once, and then his expression shifted into something that looked almost pained. "Look, Kim, about what you said earlier at school today...about me feeling guilty-"

"Jared, I can't talk about this right now," I gasped out, squeezing my eyes shut against the intensity of his voice. "Later. Please."

Suddenly, there was a warm presence right before me. The heat was radiating off his skin in waves, and I felt a strange pooling in my stomach at the way he smelled, like earth and sun and warmth.

"Get some sleep, Kim," he whispered, and his hand was cupping the crown of my head as he pressed his hot lips against my forehead.

I attempted not to black out.

Faster than seemed humanly possible, he was out the door and I was alone in my living room, shivering from the heat of his skin and his kiss, wondering what kind of damage that fall down the stairs had done to my head.

-:-:-:-:-:-

_I was ice._

_The icy water whirled around me, thrashing my limbs, invading my nose and my mouth and my lungs. It reached my heart, freezing it solid, weighing it down inside my feeble ribcage. The silent, numbing sensation traveled through my blood, touching every last corner of my body until I was solid and cold. I began sinking downwards, heavier and darker and deeper, the weight of my frozen body dragging me into the unfathomable depths below._

I woke with a gasp.

Instinctively, my hand flew to my heart; the skin on my chest felt warm, and my heart was beating beneath it, steady and alive. A few calming breaths gave me enough clarity to recognize that it had just been a dream.

I glanced at the clock, groaning when I realized it was only 7:13-on a Saturday morning, no less. I groaned again when I realized it hardly mattered that it was Saturday, considering I was grounded for the rest of my life and would most certainly not be allowed outside the house.

_Mom_.

Shit.

I shifted beneath my covers, attempting to detangle my plaster-encased leg from the bedsheets. After a few moments of horribly complicated contorting, I was upright on my crutches and speeding (mostly) down the hallway.

I reached my mom's room, placing my ear against the door. A few moments of oxygen-less listening revealed nothing but silence. I knocked, waiting with baited breath for a response, but nothing came.

I opened the door and peered inside. The room was dark, and the bed was made. My mother's work clothes were still on the floor from where she had changed out of them last night. I saw no evidence of anything out of the ordinary. A quick glance outside the window revealed that her car was still not outside.

I took a quick peek in Amy's room, satisfied that she was still asleep- pink sleeping mask over her eyes, mouth open in a not-so-gentle snore, limbs everywhere- and made my way downstairs to pour myself a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

I chewed in silence for several long minutes; a sudden and almost overwhelming feeling of _aloneness_ descended on me, sitting by myself in that far-too-silent kitchen eating cereal from a yellow plastic bowl. I blinked back a sudden wave of tears.

The morning was spent busying myself with the mundane; I attempted to shower by myself (dropped the soap twice, hit my head against the glass door, cut my good leg with the razor) before doing as many loads of laundry as I could possibly get my hands on. And when I was done washing, I ironed. And when the ironing was done and I felt I might burst into tears if I didn't find more housework to occupy my hands _right this instant-_

The doorbell rang.

_Dad._

A sinking feeling settled into my gut as I pictured my father standing on the other side of my front door. When was the last time I had seen him? Had it been two years, or three?

Leaving my crutches behind, I limped towards the front door, bracing my body for the inevitable punch-in-the-gut feeling that I was sure would descend upon me the moment I saw his face. Opening the door, I took a deep breath, and said-

"Oh."

Jared.

He was wearing a shirt this morning (_thank god_) and the grin on his face was so infectious that I found myself returning it with enthusiasm before I could even formulate the words, _why are you here?_

"Hi, Kim," he grinned at me, shoving his hands deep into his denim pockets. "How are you this morning?"

"Um, fine." _Eloquent, as usual_. "I see you decided to try out the front door approach this morning." _Better._

I might have imagined it, but a flush of crimson spread across his face as he smiled sheepishly at me. "Uh, yeah. Sorry about last night. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's ok," I offered quickly (_dammit, Kimberly, don't you have any dignity?_). "So, um, what's up?"

He raised a dark eyebrow. "Can I come in?"

Now it was my turn to blush. "Right, sorry." I stepped aside to allow him entrance, in awe of the fact that he practically had to stoop down to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe.

"How did you get so freakishly tall?" _Shit. Word vomit. Shut up, Kimberly, stop talking._

He settled himself on my couch like he owned the place, throwing back his head in a hearty laugh. "Good question. Then again, maybe I look so freakishly tall to you because you're so freakishly short." There was a twinkle in his eyes as he smirked at me, and if I'd had any experience with this sort of thing before, perhaps I might have registered _flirting_.

Instead I crossed my arms over my chest and attempted to look intimidating, or something. "You know, considering I could probably have you arrested for breaking and entering, maybe you should reconsider this whole insulting me thing."

Jared's face adopted a mischievous smirk. "Technically, there was no _breaking_. Just entering." His face screwed up into an expression of seriousness. "You really should lock your window, you know."

"Noted. So, um. You still haven't told me why you're here."

Jared cocked his head and flashed me a grin. "I thought we could hang out today, if you wanted."

"Hang out? With me?"

He drew his brows together. "Do you not want to?"

I wrung my hands together, scanning the floor intently with my eyes. "No...it's just, last time you asked me to hang out, things didn't work out so well..." I trailed off. My tone was a bit more bitter than I had intended.

Jared rose from the couch, his face looking pained beyond what I could understand. "Shit, Kim," he breathed, running a hand through his cropped hair. "I'm such an asshole. I've been meaning to talk to you about that night...I'm so sorry. I never would have...I never meant for anything to happen to you."

I shifted my shoulders uncomfortably. "It wasn't your fault."

Jared's face did not relax at my (_hollow_) words. "I shouldn't have left you alone." He stepped closer to me, his hands coming to grip my arms firmly, making my heart flutter and hiccup in my chest. "I would never hurt you intentionally, Kim. I was stupid and you probably shouldn't forgive me, but I'd be lying if I said I'm not hoping you will."

I closed my eyes at his touch, his words too soft for me to take. "I forgive you, Jared. Let's just...move on." I stepped out of his embrace, willing myself to meet his eyes. "But about the hanging out thing, I'm sort of grounded for life. So, I can't really go anywhere."

He arched an eyebrow. "Grounded? You? Never would have guessed it. What'd you do, huh?"

_Tried to save my mother from smashing her heart to pieces_. "I may have talked back a little."

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "I always knew there was more to you than you let on. Well, is your mom here?"

Something in my stomach curled up and tightened. "No."

"The park is just across the street. I doubt she'd mind that, right?"

I shot a glance towards the stairs, half expecting to see my mother glaring at me, waiting for me to _breathe_ wrong so she could ground me into the grave. "I guess not." I didn't particularly want to spend all day waiting around for my father to (_not_) show up.

His smile could have eclipsed the sun. "Let's go, then! Where are your crutches?"

I pointed towards the corner of the kitchen, trying to swallow down my nervousness. Shit, what was I going to talk about all day with _Jared Cameron_?

-:-:-:-:-:-

The grass was slightly damp underneath my thighs as we rested in the grass, taking in the fall morning. Jared was sitting beside me -_so close_- and I was keeping my hands occupied by uprooting fist-fulls of grass in my fingers.

It was simpler than I had thought it would be.

Jared, unlike me, was completely at ease with himself and the world around him. He smiled easily, laughed heartily, and radiated a quiet sort of contentment. I wanted nothing more than to sit near him and soak up the warmth in his eyes and his laugh and his voice.

"So what do you do for fun, Kimberly Chitto?"

I paused for a beat, staring into the sun, letting the warmth spread against my cold skin. "Oh, you know. I hang around."

Jared elbowed me playfully. "I'm being serious. I've never seen you at a party or hanging out at the beach. What do you do when you're not studying? Or are you one of those people that studies all the time?"

I pulled a face. "I don't study," I clarified. "Ever. I'm pretty much the worst student in existence."

He laughed and re-adjusted himself to lie on his elbows. "That makes two of us. But you still haven't answered my question."

I bit the inside of my lip, tempted to say something cool and dangerous like _mountain biking_ or _extreme skateboarding_ or _playing the electric guitar in a death metal band_. But when I met Jared's eyes, curious and genuinely interested, all I could think of to say was the truth. "I like ballet."

Jared's eyes widened and he leaned forward with interest. "You're a dancer?"

"Used to be," I corrected, tearing more grass from beside my thigh. "I stopped when I was fifteen."

"Why did you stop?"

_My mom thought it was a waste of time_. "Lessons are kind of expensive," I explained. _Half-true_.

"Do you still do it on your own time?"

I pointed towards my leg. "Considering that I can barely stand in the shower without falling over, not really." _Shit! Why did I say that? That is so fucking embarrassing. Ugh, I seriously need to stop this word vomit thing._

Jared's eyes narrowed and his mouth contorted into a mild frown. "I mean before. Have you given it up entirely?"

I shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance. "I stopped practicing. Whenever I would try to get back into it, I'd be sore and stiff. Eventually I just stopped trying, I guess."

His expression of mild displeasure morphed into a full frown. "You should try again. I bet you're incredible."

I felt my cheeks warming. "You've never seen me dance. For all you know I could be horrible."

"I seriously doubt that," he said quietly. I turned my face back towards the sun (_don't look at him don't look at him it's too much_), but his warm fingers slipped in between mine the moment I looked away. His hand was strong, calloused, and astonishingly hot around mine.

I pulled my hand from his grasp, clutching it to my chest.

"What are you doing?" The words tumbled from my throat in a raspy whisper.

"Shit, Kim, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean anything-"

I stood up shakily, refusing to meet his eyes. "No, Jared. I mean _what are you doing in my life_?" I felt dizzy with this sudden rush of courage in my veins; my words felt light as air as they flew effortlessly from my mouth. "We've been in the same class since kindergarten, you know that, right? And two weeks ago was the first time you have _ever_ acknowledged my existence. Now you're showing up at my house and _holding my hand_ and asking me questions about my life- I don't get it, Jared."

A beat passed; I wondered if he'd heard anything I said. I turned to face him, and was startled to see his shoulders hanging in resignation, his head bent towards the ground in defeat. "I'm just trying to be your friend, Kim." His voice sounded broken.

"You can't just charm your way into my life after ignoring me for twelve years," I growled out. "It's...something's not right. I don't buy it."

He looked up at that, his eyes shining with an emotion I could not identify. "I know that I've been an asshole, Kim...I really do. But I'm trying to make it up to you. I swear I am."

"Why now?" I demanded, clenching my fists.

His eyes closed briefly and for a moment I thought I saw his body _shudder_- but it was over in an instant and he was suddenly standing right in front of me, his body heat curling around me like an embrace. "Because when I saw you in class that day," he paused, briefly, "It was like I saw you for the first time. I wanted to know you. I _want_ to know you." His hands came up to grasp my upper arms, insistent and yet so _gentle_. "Please, Kim, I'm telling you the truth."

I pulled myself away from his hands, wanting to shrink inside myself. "It doesn't make sense," I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself. "Is this out of guilt for what happened that night?"

Jared reached out again like he wanted to touch me, but his hand shrank back to his side and clenched into a fist. "Believe me, I hate myself for letting you get hurt...but this is _not_ out of guilt. I...I can't explain it to you, Kim. I literally can't. Not yet. I'm not trying to hurt you or trick you or anything. I just..."

I closed my eyes against his words; they were too much to swallow, too inconceivable to accept. _Run. Get away from this_. "I'm going to go home," I announced, and limped towards my crutches lying near the sidewalk.

"Wait, Kim, let me walk you home-"

"Just leave me alone," I bit out, my vision blurry with hot tears. I heard his sharp intake of breath behind me, trying to ignore the pang of guilt I felt at my harsh words. _No. He's not trustworthy. This is for your own good._

"I'm sorry," he breathed, almost imperceptibly, and the sound of his footsteps retreating should have filled me with relief, but instead I just felt empty.

-:-:-:-:-:-

_To be continued..._

**Author's note: I want to thank everyone who was concerned about my health; I very much appreciate it. I want to let you know that I am in fact eating, studying, and doing homework, and please don't worry about me too much. :) I am writing pretty furiously, but I am still staying healthy.**

**If you guys have any questions, feel free to message me or leave a review.**

**As always, I remind you on behalf of all writers, that we are doing this for _free. _We love writing, but even more we love it when we know someone else is reading it (hating it or loving it, it doesn't matter. We're attention whores. Every single one of us. :)) So please take a moment to let me know what you think! I appreciate it soooo much!**

**Hugs and kisses to everyone.**

**-Madame Naberrie**


	4. Resuscitation

**Chapter 4: Resuscitation**

**-:-:-:-:-**

_Ice_.

I gasped awake, blinding grasping for consciousness. It took a moment before I could register what had awoken me: _cold_.

I glanced at the clock. 3:06 AM.

My skin felt icy to the touch as I tried to rub warmth into my arms. Teeth chattering, I clambered out of bed and reached for another blanket. I wrapped it tightly around my body and burrowed myself back under the covers, trying desperately to ward off the chill.

This was the seventh night in a row.

The weekend had passed laboriously and slowly. My mother came home sometime Saturday evening, her face pale and her eyes dead in her skull. My father never showed up.

On Sunday night, I had awoken in the middle of the night, shivering uncontrollably, ice water running through my veins and my head throbbing with a powerful headache.

And Jared had not been at school all week.

_This isn't working_. I was still freezing.

I threw the covers aside in frustration and pulled my oversized t-shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I needed to get warm _now_.

I locked myself in the bathroom and turned on the shower, setting it to the hottest temperature. I waited for it to heat, resting my forehead against the bathroom tiles, listening to the rhythmic pounding of water on the rubber shower mat. I imagined warm, strong arms slipping around me, cradling my body, sweet breath brushing against the back of my neck-

_Stop it, Kim._

I shook my head, trying to ward off the images that had been assaulting my mind all weekend. My waking moments consisted only of _him_. _His_ face, _his_ voice, _his_ embrace, _his_ kiss..._JaredJaredJaredJaredJared_-

I growled in frustration and thrust the un-casted side of my body into the scalding hot stream. It was almost painful in its intensity, but it was effective in silencing off the lunatic in my head that could not forget the feel of his lips against my forehead or his calloused fingers intertwined with mine.

I dipped my face into the stream, concentrating on the droplets of water that trailed from my eyelashes down to my chin. "Leave me alone," I bit out under my breath, willing him to hear me, wherever he was. "Get out of my head."

I slid down the shower wall until I was sitting on the mat, my broken leg jutting out of the partially open shower door. How was it possible I was _still_ cold? A quick glance at my skin revealed that it was raw and red; my stomach churned as I pictured raw, undercooked meat. Damn it, why couldn't I feel any _warmth_?

I shut off the shower and stepped out, not bothering to dry myself. Dripping wet, I paused in front of the mirror, evaluating the naked reflection before me.

There were deep circles under my eyes,- _restless dreams, his voice, waking up gasping his name_ - my skin had adopted a sickly pallor- _I'm not hungry, Melissa, leave me alone_- and I nearly felt like gasping at the sight of my hipbones jutting out from my papery-thin skin. I had always been thin, but certainly this was not possible.

I lifted shaking hands to my face, catching the tears that had begun leaking from my tired eyes. _What the fuck is happening to me?_

_JaredJaredJaredJared-_

"Ugh," I growled, and in an instant I was smashing my fist against the mirror, watching in morbid fascination as it cracked beneath my hand like an eggshell and shattered to pieces.

I gasped.

I drew my hand back in slow motion, inspecting with wide eyes the bloody mess of my fist. Crimson, thick droplets landed against the perfectly white bathroom tile. _Drip. Drip. Drip. Jared. Jared. Jared._

"What the _fuck_," I gasped out, and backed against the wall, trembling. Had I really just done that?

"Kim? Kim, what's going on?"

My sister's frantic voice outside the bathroom door snapped me back into reality. "Nothing, Amy, it's fine," I reassured her quickly, wrapping my hand quickly in a towel to stop the bleeding. "I dropped something. Go back to sleep."

There was a moment of silence before I heard her shuffling back down the hallway to her bedroom, leaving me in the deafening silence of the tiny bathroom, the only sound being my labored breathing and the pulsing of my blood in my ears.

The first hints of pain spreading up to my fingertips shook me from my frozen inaction. I wrapped a towel around my body and bent over, scooping mirror fragments into my injured hand. _This isn't going to be fun to explain tomorrow morning..._

Cradling my bloody hand against my chest, I peeked out of the bathroom before darting back into my bedroom and shutting the door behind me. My hand was throbbing quite painfully now. Turning on my bedside lamp, I unwrapped the towel from my hand and wanted to vomit at the sight that greeted me; my palm and fingers were cut and bloodied, peppered with fragments of glass jutting from my skin in ways that made my stomach turn. I couldn't help the panicked gasp that flew from my throat.

"Goddamnit, Kim!"

I jerked backwards violently at the voice coming from the window, catching myself on my hands instinctively against the mattress, gasping as the glass dug into my skin-

Jared's hands were on me immediately, cradling my bloodied fist and holding my shoulder steady. "What the fuck happened, Kim?" he barked out, inspecting my injury with frenzied movements.

"What-what are you doing here?" I mumbled stupidly, my breath hitching inside my throat.

He didn't answer me. "Wait here," he commanded, forcing me into a sitting position, and was out of my sight in one dizzying movement. My head swam with questions and pain..._why is he here, why is he shirtless in my house again, shitshitshit my hand-_

Almost as fast as I could blink, he was kneeling before me in front of the bed, once again grasping my hand in his own. "I have to get the glass out, ok?" he told me in a tone fit for addressing a child. His brown eyes met mine in the semi-dark, pleading. "It's gonna hurt. Try to keep your hand still."

He began working on my hand with a pair of tweezers he must have gotten from the bathroom, biting his lip in concentration. It stung, but it was more than just pain that was making my head feel clouded and woozy; I felt unbelievable heat pulsing from his body, curling into my stomach and around my body, infusing my blood with _warmth_. My lungs contracted easily for the first time in what felt like years.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again, but my tone was anything but accusatory (_as any normal person's would have, Kim, you dumbass_); it sounded pitiful and desperate even to my own ears.

"I was just checking on you," he grumbled distractedly, and it almost sounded like it wasn't even meant for me. "Then I heard you gasp and I could smell your blood..."

"You could _smell_ my blood?" I felt lightheaded, drunk. "What are you talking about?"

Jared ignored me, working steadily on my hand until all the glass fragments were out of my skin. He pulled me from my sitting position and to my bedroom door, dragging me out into the hallway and into the bathroom, where he turned on the sink faucet and thrust my hand under the flow of lukewarm water. I hissed.

"Shit. Sorry," he mumbled, and scrubbed my hand with stinging soap. After a long minute of washing, he pulled my hand out from under the stream and began wrapping my hand in a thick bandage that he must have found somewhere underneath the sink. When he seemed satisfied with his work, he led me back towards my room. He stopped when he saw me tripping over my cumbersome cast and swept me up in his arms, carrying me the rest of the way.

Jared deposited me gently against the bed, and his hot palm rested for a moment against the cold skin of my face. I felt like I had been resurrected from the dead.

"You ok?" he asked, and his voice was gruff with an unidentifiable emotion.

I nodded once, sharply. Jared withdrew his palm (_the sun was going out, so dark and cold_) and crossed to my closet. He started pulling out various items of clothing, and I found myself wondering if he really _had_ lost it after all.

"Here," he said, handing me a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. "Put something on. You're shivering."

I glanced down at my body in confusion, only to be utterly mortified when I realized I'd _been in my towel the entire time. Oh, holy fuck._

Jared started towards the window, which I realized he must have come through (_which made little to no sense in and of itself_). He began climbing out of it, like he was _leaving_, and it was like the air was being sucked right out of my lungs and I gasped out, "Wait, wait, don't leave," before I could register what a complete and utter mental case I was.

He stopped immediately and slowly pivoted his body to face me. "Are you sure?" His expression looked more forlorn and vulnerable than I had ever seen it.

"Yes," I breathed out, ignoring the voice in my head that was screaming, _what the fuck is wrong with you, Kim?_

A look of relief crossed his face and he appeared back at my side, sitting himself carefully on the bedside. His enormous, muscled frame looked absolutely absurd perched upon my tiny, pink bed. "Ok," he said, and smiled gently at me. "But you should probably put on those clothes now."

My face flushed as I remembered the items in my hands. "Right. Um." Putting on my clothes with a muscled, Quileute teenage boy in the room was not a situation I was accustomed to.

Sensing my discomfort, he grinned and turned his body to face the opposite wall. "I promise not to peek."

I wasn't sure why I trusted him not to, but his display a few minutes earlier over the state of my well-being made it a bit easier. I struggled to get my pants over my bulky leg; my fingers trembled and fumbled with the drawstrings. I shoved my arms through the giant t-shirt and crossed my arms over my chest, holding my pounding heart inside my body. "You can look now." My voice came out a throaty whisper.

He turned around to face me, his heart in his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay, Kim?" he asked, and his voice sent tremors down my spine.

"I'm ok," I reassured him. _I'm only warm when you're here. And it doesn't make any sense._

Jared rose from the bed and came to stand in front of me, impossibly tall and smelling of something woodsy and calming. "Are you sure you want me to stay?" he asked, voice so small I could barely hear it. "I- I thought you wanted me to stop...talking to you."

My eyes closed at the strain in his voice. "I...I did," I confirmed. "I was so confused...I _am_ so confused. I don't know why you keep showing up at my house or how you got in through the window or why you even _care_, but you're here and I can _breathe_ again." _Toomuchtoomuch_. Where were these words coming from? Who was this stranger forcing my heart out into my words and laying them bare before this boy I hardly knew?

Jared swallowed visibly, his hand coming to rest against my cheek again. "I tried to stay away, Kim," he confessed, saying my name like a prayer. "I promise I did. But all I could think about was _you_. If you were safe. If you needed me..." His eyelids fluttered shut.

"This makes no sense," I breathed, and my eyes were suddenly wet. "Jared, please...what's going on between us? Why are you here?"

He took my face between his hands, cradling me with a softness I'd never known. "Kim," he whispered. "There's so many things I need to explain to you. And I promise you that I will. But you have to trust me first, Kim." His hands stroked my skin, tracing invisible patterns that only he could see. "Please."

My heart constricted painfully in my chest. "I-I don't...I don't know you." _But I can't stop thinking about you. And it scares me to death._

"Spend time with me, then," he implored breathlessly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Let me spend time with _you_."

I shuddered at his soft touch. "I don't know why you'd bother," I admitted.

Jared frowned and pushed damp hair away from my face. "I don't know why you think I shouldn't," he countered gently.

_Because I have nothing. I'm nothing_. "I don't want to get hurt."

"You won't," he was quick to assure me. "If you tell me to stay, I'll stay. If you ask me to go, I'll go. That's all there is to it." He continued brushing hair from my face.

Everywhere his hands touched me, my skin felt as though it had been shocked back to life. Awoken. Renewed. And it was utterly intoxicating.

"I can't stop thinking about you," I blurted out, like if I didn't say the words it was the end of the world._ I can't stop dreaming about you. I don't want you to ever go._

I expected shock or distaste, but instead Jared's hands shook almost imperceptibly against my face. "Kim..." he breathed and his lips connected with the skin of my temple, a lifeline in the storm. He kissed the spot over and over again, hot, open-mouthed kisses that felt like the death of me and coming alive all at once. "You have no idea..."

But he never finished the words.

Jared's lips connected with mine, hot, soft, achingly sweet.

His kiss felt like resuscitation.

I moaned helplessly and my legs stopped working instantly. His arms came around my waist, hands clutching at my hips, desperate and pleading. I hadn't realized this kind of _life_ was possible.

My lips moved against his, like they were made for this (_like they were made for him_). My kiss asked a thousand questions; each caress of his lips against mine was an answer, a reassurance.

Jared pulled away, pressing butterfly kisses against my cheekbones, my eyelids, my ears, the underside of my jaw. "I would die before hurting you."

I realized there were hot tears streaming down my face as he began wiping them away with the pads of his calloused fingers. "I don't understand," I whispered, my chest aching. Surely my chest was smeared with my own blood; surely my heart was an open wound.

"Then I'll make you," he vowed, kissing a trail from my jawline to my earlobe. "Whatever it takes."

I sobbed openly now, overwhelmed and disgusted with my pathetic reaction. But Jared wrapped me up wordlessly in his arms and carried me to my bed. He laid me down gently, kissing my lips with such tenderness.

"Calm down, honey," he whispered, and the endearment did nothing to stop the flow of my tears. "Shh, Kim, it's ok. Tell me what you need."

"S-stay," I blubbered childishly, grasping at his hand.

"I'm here," he reassured me, cradling my head in his hand. "I'm not leaving you. Just relax."

It took several minutes for my breaths to slow and my tears to stop flowing. My body felt heavy; drained. I felt the pull of sleep around the edges of my brain.

"You need to sleep, Kim," Jared whispered, kissing my cheek. "You're exhausted."

"We have to talk," I murmured drowsily.

He smiled. "We can talk tomorrow. I'll be back in the morning, okay?"

I nodded sleepily. "Okay. 'Night, Jared."

Another soft kiss to my lips. "Goodnight, Kim."

And for once, I slept peacefully.

-:-:-:-

_To be continued..._

-:-:-:-:-:-

**Author's note: I apologize for the delay in updating. I have so many tests right now, it's ridiculous. But I love you all! Seriously! Let's get BFF tattoos.**

**Love,**

**Madame Naberrie**


	5. Sunrise

__**Breathless, Ch. 5: Sunrise**

***See author's note at the end, as per usual.**

_-:-:-:-:-:-_

_I was ice._

_The icy water whirled around me, thrashing my limbs, invading my nose and my mouth and my lungs. It reached my heart, freezing it solid, weighing it down inside my feeble ribcage. The silent, numbing sensation traveled through my blood, touching every last corner of my body until I was solid and cold. I began sinking downwards, heavier and darker and deeper, the weight of my frozen body dragging me into the unfathomable depths below._

I woke with a start, though it must have been the tenth time I'd had this dream in the past week alone. Once again, my hand flew to my heart, feeling the erratic rhythm pounding beneath my palm. _Blood. Warmth. Life_. Right.

I heard a tap on the window and whipped my head around to face where the early morning light was streaming through my open blinds - but I saw nothing.

I turned back to face the clock, saw that it read 6:07 AM, and groaned-

_Tap_!

I hobbled to the window, clutching my dimly aching thigh. Wet droplets of morning rain were collecting on the pane, and my heart stopped immediately when on the ground below I saw russet skin and dark hair.

_Jared_.

I thrust open the window, ignoring the wet drops landing on my face. "What are you doing out there in the rain without a shirt?" It was honestly a wonder that the man didn't have hypothermia yet.

"Can I come up?"

"Yeah. I'll get the door."

"No, it - just...step back."

Right. What was he planning on doing exactly, flying through my window?

I stepped away from the window and was thoroughly shocked when, faster than my brain could really register it, he was standing inside my room, dripping wet and breathing heavily, looking like a Quileute demi-god.

"Hey," he said casually, throwing me a lopsided grin, like he hadn't just launched himself fifteen feet in the air, defying all known laws of physics.

"Um, hi," I stammered. "I won't even bother asking how you did that. I'm just adding it to the list of Freaky Shit that Jared Does that I Can't Explain."

Jared laughed and the sound soothed me right to my core. "You're funny." He stepped right in front of me, towering over my minuscule height, and wrapped his impossibly long arms around my body. "How are you feeling this morning?"

I hugged him back hesitantly, the feeling of his furnace-hot skin underneath my hands rendering all coherent thought almost impossible. "I'm good," I mumbled into his chest. God, his smell was absolutely intoxicating... "You're so warm..."

Jared's hands ran soothingly along my back; he may as well have been lighting me on fire. "I was worried about you last night."

I pulled back from the smooth, never-ending skin of his back to peer into his dark eyes. There were shadows underneath them, and his mouth was pulled into a tight, firm line. "You were worried about me?" The words felt foreign on my tongue.

One of Jared's hands came up to cup my face, and it felt like I was being born again. _What is he doing to me?_ "Yes," he affirmed, his thumb stroking softly along my cheekbone. "Last night..." He trailed off, uncertain of what to say.

_Shit. You scared the shit of him, Kim. You're so stupid. You punched a mirror and then he tried to make out with you and then you burst into **tears**. Could there **be** anything more horrible to a guy?_

"I'm sorry," I murmured, and pulled back from his warm embrace. "I'm stupid. I'm really sorry if I pissed you off. I don't know what got into me." _Please don't hate me._

"Pissed me off?" he repeated, pulling me back towards his chest. "You didn't piss me off, Kim. I was worried about you, I told you. I just want to know if you're ok."

My heart swelled with relief. "You mean you're not freaked out by the fact that I lost it and sobbed like a baby?"

Jared's mouth pulled into a firmer line, but his hands were impossibly tender on my face. "Not at all, honey," he confirmed, shaking his head. "Do you feel better now, though?"

_Yes. You're here and now I can breathe again and I'm finally warm and please don't ever leave me (holy fucking shit, this was so messed up)._

I at least had the decency to only nod.

Jared looked visibly relieved. "Good." He reached for the hand I had injured last night and held it delicately in his palm. "Are you going to tell me what happened last night?" he prodded gently, stroking my hand over the bandages he had placed last night.

I felt my cheeks flushing in shame. "I punched a mirror," I mumbled.

He looked like I had just tried to explain quantum physics in Japanese. "You...punched a mirror? Jesus. Why?"

I felt tears pooling my eyes (_shit shit, not this again_) and held my lids shut, willing myself not to cry. "I uh...I wasn't feeling too great."

I found myself being suddenly swept up into Jared's arms, one arm cradling my shoulders and the other at the crooks of my knees. He sat on my bed, the mattress shifting beneath his weight, and positioned himself so he was leaning against the headboard, cradling me against his body. "Tell me," he pleaded.

_He's going to think you're fucking insane, Kim_, the rational side of me reasoned. But truthfully, he probably already did, so what the hell, right?

"I kept having dreams..." I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I'd wake up every night freezing. I couldn't breathe. It felt like the sun was going out of my world, like I was dying..." How could I properly convey the feeling of literally living in a black hole, of being a walking corpse, frozen and in the dark and _dead_?

"Shit," he said, and clutched me impossibly tight against his chest. "Kim, shit, I'm so fucking sorry. This is my fault."

"Your fault?" I murmured into his warm skin. "My going insane is in no way your fault." _Well, maybe just a little_.

Jared was silent for a moment, stroking my hair, cradling my head in his palm. "I shouldn't have stayed away for so long. I had no idea you were feeling those things, too. You told me to go away, and I didn't want to hurt you..."

I pulled away from his chest, blinking stupidly at him. "What do you mean, 'I was feeling those things, too?'"

Jared's eyes were hard and cold, fixating on a spot on the wall somewhere just beyond my head. "I thought it was just me. The dreams, the cold...if I'd have known, I wouldn't have stayed away." He continued speaking like he hadn't heard what I'd said.

"Jared." I pressed my hands against his face, the first time I'd taken the initiative to touch him. It brought him back to reality immediately. "You're not making any sense. You were having all the same problems as me, the nightmares, the cold...?"

He nodded once, sharply, his eyes trained onto my face. "That's what happens to me when I'm not near you. My body temperature was lower than ever and it was literally impossible to sleep. I was throwing up almost every night. I knew it would be bad for me when you told me to leave, but I didn't know you would feel it, too."

"Are you saying that...when you're physically away from me...when we're away from each other...we actually have _physical_ _symptoms_?" I was a romantic girl and all, but even that seemed way too fucking insane to be real.

He nodded again, looking stricken. He reached out to caress my face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Kim. This is all my fault. This isn't fair to you, you didn't even have a choice..."

I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes, trying to ground myself into reality. "This is insane."

"I know. Shit...Kim...I don't...I don't want to leave you...but maybe there's a way to stop this, maybe I can break it somehow. I don't want to hurt you...this isn't fair to you at all."

_No_.

I didn't know what the fuck he was talking about, but there was one thing I knew for sure: _he was not fucking going anywhere_. "No. You aren't leaving me," I ground out, my voice raspy and guttural and sounding nothing at all like me.

I heard the words coming from my body, but they felt nothing like my own.

_Where did **that** come from?_

I clamped my hand against my mouth in horror. "I'm so sorry," I gushed out, my voice back to its timid, breathy whisper. "I don't know what made me say that, oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, Jared."

There was a look in his eyes I couldn't identify at all, but something about it shook me to my very core. When he spoke, his voice was low and strained and desperate somehow. "I'm not leaving you," he assured me, annunciating every word with perfect clarity, though his voice shook at the edges. "Whatever you want. Anything you want."

I stared at him, stunned into silence.

"You can't be serious," I dared to whisper.

"I'm dead serious," he countered, pulling my hand over his heart; it was beating frantically beneath my hand. "I tried to tell you last night, Kim. You tell me to stay and I'll never go anywhere ever again. I'm yours."

_Yes. He's yours. All yours. Take him._

A compelling force - too impossibly strong to ignore - pushed me into his body, made me press my mouth against his own, made me meld the contours of my body into his. _MineminemineJaredJaredJared._

He groaned at the unexpected contact, and his hands came to rest immediately against my lower back. He kissed me fervently, his lips moving against mine with a fierceness that both terrified and thrilled me.

Jared's hands slipped down to my hips and he pressed his fingers hard enough to leave marks. "Open your mouth," he commanded, whispering against my lips. I could do nothing but obey him as his hot tongue slipped between my parted lips and toyed with my own tongue. _Oh my god, this is what life is all about, don't stop, don't ever stop._

I moaned against his mouth and the sound seemed to drive him over the edge. He wrenched his lips from mine. "Holy fucking shit, Kim," he gasped, and quickly flipped me so I was on my back, pressed into the mattress. He held my hands above my head and gripped my wrists so hard I thought the bones might break, fastening his mouth back to mine, bruising me with his kisses.

_You should be terrified_, my rational brain screamed at me. _You don't even know this guy_.

_Shut_ _up_, I told her. This felt way too right.

Like he could sense my inner dialogue, he pulled back slightly, easing up on his grip on my delicate wrists. "I'm not going to hurt you," he assured me, kissing me once more - sweetly this time - to emphasize his words.

"I know," I breathed, realizing it was true the moment the words tumbled from my throat. "Don't stop."

Jared groaned and fastened his mouth to my neck, sucking at the tender skin there. "Whatever you want," he repeated, and though the words were husky with lust, I could sense the tenderness beneath them. "Anything you want." His hands wandered from my wrists to rest against my waist. "God, you're beautiful, Kim."

I felt my heart constrict in my chest.

Jared sensed my hesitation and lifted his face from where it was nestled against my collarbone. He watched my face intently and traced my brow bone with the pad of his index finger. "What is it?"

_Don't lose it don't lose it don't lose it_. My eyes felt wet, and I pushed his hands away, sitting up to scoot towards the foot of the bed.

"Kim? Shit. What is it? What did I do? Are you ok?" His voice was frantic.

I closed my eyes and wrapped an arm carefully around my (_imploding_) chest.

No one had ever called me beautiful before.

His words struck against something deep inside me, something ugly that had laid dormant and buried itself underneath laundry and grocery lists and homework and ordinary things. This boy - this boy I'd pined after for so long - was in my room, cradling and caring for me, kissing me, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. This was too much, too raw, too real.

"Kim, please," Jared was pleading with me, his hand at my elbow. "Talk to me."

"No one's ever called me that before."

"Beautiful?"

I nodded.

He paused for a puzzled moment. "Did I hurt you?"

I shook my head. "You didn't hurt me," I assured him, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I'm being stupid again."

"Just tell me what's wrong, Kim."

I let out a shaky breath and met his gaze, started at the intensity I saw there. "I just...don't know how to deal with this stuff."

"Physical stuff?"

"No," I countered quickly (_though in truth the answer was a little bit "yes."_). "This...other stuff. Telling me I'm beautiful. Calling me 'honey.' You being here at all."

Jared's face looked pained, and he spoke slowly. "Do you want me to stop?"

I shook my head and a few tears leaked from my eyes. "Please don't," I whispered. God, I wasn't making any sense.

Jared scooted close to me and wrapped one arm around my shoulders. His warmth sank into my skin immediately, pooling in my chest and spreading throughout my limbs, liquid life. "I get it, Kim," he said quietly, taking one of my hands in his own. "No one has ever cared about you before. No one has ever been there for you before. And you're scared that it's too good to be true."

I nearly gasped at his assessment. "Yes," I confirmed breathily, surprised by his understanding.

"Look," he said carefully. "I know what it's like." He paused for a moment, caressing my hand with his thumb. "My parents weren't the greatest people; my dad used to beat me and my sister around and my mom just sort of stood back and did nothing." I felt my heart constrict as I listened to his strained voice, and I grasped his hand more tightly in my own. "The state eventually took us out of there and we were taken in by my foster parents. They're really nice people; they've always given me and my sister everything we needed and they've been great parents. But it took me a long time to trust them. I was so used to being kicked around and neglected that it took a couple of years before I could get used to what it felt like to be loved."

Jared touched my face, imploring me to match his gaze. "I don't know what's gone on in your life, but I know what it's like to be afraid to trust. I know that you feel that way about me sometimes. I get that it's gonna take time, especially since I haven't always been the nicest to you." He sighed, rubbing my hand again. "I still have a lot of explaining to do. But for right now, I want to let you know that this thing between me and you is real. It is one-hundred percent the real deal and I am not ever gonna do anything to hurt you. Ok?"

I nodded feebly, swiping at the tears streaming down my cheeks. "Ok." I took in a shaky breath. "Thank you," I whispered. "For telling me about your life. And for understanding."

He smiled (_my smile_) and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. "You're welcome."

And it was like the sun was finally rising after the endless dark of night.

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_To be continued..._

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**Author's note: Hello, my lovelies. Thank you for being patient for this update. School is totally kicking my butt right now. Thank you to all my reviewers and silent readers, I love you all forever.**

**On another note, I have changed the rating of this story to "M." First of all, I have a rather filthy mouth and realized that much of my language was not appropriate for the "T" rating. Secondly, I realized that Kim and Jared's relationship would eventually be taking a mature turn, and I didn't feel right leaving out parts I felt were important to the plot. I'm hoping that if I have any younger readers out there, they will understand my decision and hopefully adhere to the rating guidelines laid out by the site!**

**As always, feel free to leave comments, loving or scathing alike, at any and all times. **

**Love,**

**Madame Naberrie. **


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